The Death Eaters are Going to Canada!
by xFallingStarsx
Summary: One day, the Dark Lord Voldemort has an amazing idea - and acts on it. Watch hilarity ensue as he and his Death Eaters embark on the holiday of their lives, tackling over-friendly locals, freezing temperatures and... an author who just can't help butting in? Oh joy!
1. Holiday Preparations

**Greetings, fellow Fanfictioners! This is a story that I started writing a while ago but never actually had the courage to publish until now. It's my first attempt at a Humour fic, so please be nice XD. The reason I came up with it was because I read a story a long time ago about Voldemort and the Death Eaters going on holiday (yes, I'm English, so 'holiday' is the right word for me) and found it really funny and inspirational. This fic is based off that story, although I hope I've made enough differences to keep mine original. Updates might not appear regularly though (sorry, people!) as I have another story that I'm working on and that takes up most of my writing time. However, chapter two is almost complete so that one, at least, shouldn't take too long to get up here.**

**There's something important I have to say - I kinda know next to nothing about Canada XD. I chose it as a destination for the Death Eaters' holiday because I would really love to visit it myself one day (it looks such a nice place!), but the fact that I don't know much about Canadians' customs, money etc. will make it hard for me to write this story lol. Any advice I can get from Canadians will be greatly appreciated =). Also, this story is NOT meant to be offensive to Canadians in any way, shape or form! I hope any Canadian people reading this will feel honoured rather than insulted that I chose their wonderful country for my story XD. I guess that's all I have to say, so on to the story! x**

**********Disclaimer:**** All characters in this story belong to J.K Rowling - I am merely experimenting with them XD.**

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**The Death Eaters are Going to Canada!**

**Chapter One – Holiday Preparations**

The Dark Lord Voldemort strode casually down the halls of Malfoy Manor towards the room where his latest Death Eater meeting was being held, a look of... happiness?... on his snake-like face. Oh, how he couldn't wait to propose his latest idea to his loyal – yet rather dim – followers!

He opened the door of the meeting room and entered in the most dramatic way possible: by tripping over a loose bit of carpet and almost landing flat on his face. "That was NOT funny! Anybody who laughs will get Avada Kedavra'd before they can say 'Oh frick!'" he thundered, drawing himself up to his full height and glaring at his Death Eaters, a few of whom had to quickly conceal their grins. But then Voldemort's expression became excited once more as he remembered the reason why he had summoned his servants in the first place.

He made his way to the throne-like chair at the far end of the table and sat down with the eyes of every Death Eater upon him. They were all there, staring at him with a mixture of fear and respect and – in Bellatrix's case – adoration. Voldemort shivered at the look of longing on the insane woman's face, knowing all too well that she would like nothing more than to rip off all his clothes and... ("Well, best not to go into that.")

Doing his best to ignore this rather unpleasant mental image, the Darkest of Lords clapped his hands together and transfigured his features into the widest smile he could manage – which, consequently, made him look even more deranged than normal and, far from encouraging the Death Eaters, made them feel sick. ("Hey!" an enraged Voldemort shouts at me. "First of all, I do NOT look deranged! And secondly, my followers worship the ground I walk on!" "Ok, whatever..." I sigh. "Now, back to the story!")

"M-my Lord..." piped up a small, fat and incredibly ugly man that was seated near to Voldemort's throne, raising a trembling hand into the air. "Why have you called us?"

"Your unintelligence never ceases to amaze me, Wormtail," Voldemort sighed. "However, since I am in such a good mood, I shall spare you the agony of enduring the Cruciatus Curse for the tenth time today. My friends," he continued with an air of maddening superiority, "I have summoned you today to announce that" – his voice grew as high-pitched as a little girl's in his excitement – "we are going on holiday!"

There was utter silence in the room aside from the chirping of crickets in the background. Every single Death Eater stared at their master in astonishment, never having expected that the evil Lord Voldemort would consider taking a holiday. Then Bellatrix let out a squeal. "Ooh, what a fantastic idea, your sexiness!"

Voldemort's smile broadened. He magicked a hat out of thin air and placed it on the table in front of him. "Since I am such a generous person" (I let out a cough which sounds suspiciously like "not!") "I had the brilliant idea to let you guys decide where we go for our holiday! Each of you shall write a destination on a piece of paper and put them in the hat, then I'll pick one out at random."

Each of the Death Eaters did as instructed and, once they had all put their paper into the hat, Voldemort stuck his hand into it, plucked out a piece and glanced at it. His expression went from eager to angry in a matter of seconds.

"Harry Potter's house? _Harry frickin' Potter's house_? Ok, whose bright idea was this?"

A nameless Death Eater let out a feeble giggle and was immediately hit with a blast of green light from Voldemort's wand, which, judging by the man's untimely death, turned out to be the killing curse.

"Now, let's see what the next one says!" said the Dark Lord gleefully as if nothing had happened, all his anticipation returning. He stuck his hand into the hat for a second time and selected another piece of paper. "Hogwarts...?"

"Mine!" announced another nameless Death Eater, a grin plastered on his face even as he ended up on the wrong side of another of Voldemort's famous "Avada Kedavra!"s.

Again and again the Death Eaters' pieces of paper were removed from the hat, with Azkaban, The Burrow, Diagon Alley and the Ministry of Magic among those suggestions that were instantly - and lethally - rejected.

"Well, thirteenth time lucky!" A very irritated Voldemort once again put his hand into the hat and drew out a piece of paper. This time, however, his face lit up as he read what was written upon it. "Canada? Now that's more like it!"

"Ooh ooh, that idea was mine, Voldypoo!" Bellatrix shrieked, knocking over a goblet in her haste to shoot her fist into the air.

"Of course it was..." mumbled a very peeved Snape, but Voldemort was too busy bouncing up and down in his seat like a small child to notice.

"Well, I think it's the best idea since the Imperius Curse!" he announced enthusiastically, clapping his hands together again. "The Death Eaters are going to Canada! But, incidentally..." – his face acquired a look of puzzled curiosity – "where exactly _is_ Canada?"

Almost as though by magic, a map of the world appeared on the table in front of the Dark Lord, making him jump a foot in the air with shock. On this map there was a red circle surrounding the area where Canada lay, as well as an 'X' with the words 'You are here!' beneath it to mark where the Death Eaters were currently.

"A-ha!" said Voldemort smugly. "So all we have to do is follow this map to that big red circle and we'll be in Canada! Nothing could be simpler!"

_~ One Hour Later ~_

The Dark Lord Voldemort stood on the sweeping lawn of Malfoy Manor facing his line of minions, all of whom had been instructed to get ready for the trip they were about to embark on. They each had their own suitcase, filled with the various items they had deemed worthy to take with them: Snape had selected his best – and blackest – robes for the occasion; Lucius' case was filled to the brim with his precious hair brushes, sprays and gels; Draco had secretly stuffed his suitcase with his favourite teddy bears and posters of bunnies, kittens, puppies and Daniel Radcliffe; Bellatrix had her Goth clothes and makeup and, unbeknownst to everyone but her, pictures of herself and Voldemort that she had constructed herself with love hearts painted on them in pink lipstick; and Voldemort himself was clutching a suitcase filled with books such as _How To Talk To Girls If You're An Ugly Crybaby Dark Lord_ and _The Joys Of Being Defeated By An Infant_ in one hand and his teddy bunny, Happy Hoppy, in the other.

"Now, has everyone got everything they need?" he enquired.

"Yes, my Lord," came the responding chorus.

"Wormtail! Did you pack the suntan lotion, beach balls and parasols like I commanded?" ("Apparently, Voldemort doesn't know he won't be needing any of those things! At least, not in the winter..." I giggle evilly.)

"Y-yes, my Lord," said the little rat-faced man, holding up his suitcase for his master to see. ("And neither does Wormtail." More evil giggles.)

"Excellent! Then let our holiday begin!"

"HOORAY!" chorused the Death Eaters joyfully, piling into their master's pink Hello Kitty minibus ("Don't ask..."), which they would be using to travel to the airport. Unfortunately, with around twenty Death Eaters to seat and limited room, it was rather crowded.

"I-I'm being squished!" gasped Draco as he was forced against the side of the bus.

"Now, son," reprimanded Lucius, although he too sounded like he was fighting for breath in the cramped conditions, "don't let the Dark Lord hear you complaining about his choice of transport."

"But... but..."

"Oh, man up, Draco!" said Bellatrix grumpily, whose face was crushed against a window.

Meanwhile, Voldemort had lovingly put Happy Hoppy in the passenger's seat and placed cute little purple sunglasses on it to match its fur before making his way to the driver's side and getting in the minibus. He turned around in his seat to face his followers and laughed hysterically at the sight of them basically sitting on top of each other. Oh, this was going to be so fun!


	2. The Wide Open Road

**I'd like to thank the anonymous reviewer that gave me such good information about Canada, it will come in useful later on in the story. And thank you to the other people who have reviewed and/or added this story to their favourites/alerts as well, it made my day to see such wonderful support =). I hope you all enjoy the chapter! x**

**************Disclaimer:**** All characters in this story belong to J.K Rowling - I am merely experimenting with them XD.**

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**Chapter Two – The Wide Open Road**

"Let's turn on the radio!" said Voldemort happily after he'd finished laughing himself silly at the Death Eaters squashed into the back of the minibus. Then he squealed as his favourite song started playing. "YEAH! 'Let The Bodies Hit The Floor' is on! AWESOME!" He began singing along with gusto – accidentally smashing all the windows in the process.

Draco screamed in a very girly way and clamped his hands over his ears. "AHHHH! His singing is worse than our old house elf's!" His exclamation earned him a smart whack over the head with Lucius' pimp cane.

Fortunately for the blonde, however, his master was too busy turning the volume up to full blast and singing his heart out to hear anything that was going on in the back of the bus – not that he was paying any attention to what his rather pathetic followers were up to anyway.

"LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOR! LET THE BODIES HIT THE FLOOOOR!" he sung (or, for want of a better word, screeched) as he put his foot on the accelerator and started speeding out of the Malfoys' driveway.

Bellatrix began to giggle uncontrollably as Rodolphus was flung forward by the force of the acceleration and smacked his head off the passenger's seat. Voldemort, on the other hand, did not seem to find this quite as amusing.

"HEY! WATCH OUT FOR HAPPY HOPPY!" he bellowed furiously, rounding on Rodolphus as the vehicle started gathering speed.

"My Lord, shouldn't you be keeping your eyes on the road?" Snape pointed out, raising his voice in order to be heard over the blaring music from the radio.

"Right you are, Snape!" Voldemort turned his attention back to driving, only just managing to narrowly avoid a truck moving in the opposite direction. "Oh frick, that thing nearly hit us!"

"Should we go back and teach 'em a lesson, my Lord?" enquired Goyle in his stupid drawling voice.

The evil Lord smiled very evilly. "Why yes, Crabbe..."

"I'm Goyle."

"Whatever, Boil..."

"I'm Goyle."

"I said whatever!" Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration – oh, wait... "Yes, let's turn this thing around and drive that" – (_Important transmission: This story has been put temporarily on hold while the ugly snake-man hisses out a number of insulting swear words and curses. End of important transmission)_ – "off the road!"

The wheels screeched in protest as said ugly snake-man forced the bus around and pummelled at the accelerator with his foot, chasing down the offending truck. Laughing like a maniac, he came up alongside the hideous red vehicle and crashed into it from the side. The Death Eaters held on for dear life as their master rammed again into the truck, sending it hurtling off course into a ditch. Then, still laughing fit to burst, Voldemort spun the steering wheel – there was a crash and a groan from the back of the bus – and drove off again.

"Ouch! My head!" Draco began to cry as he nursed the sore spot on his forehead where it had collided painfully with his father's back.

"And _my_ back!" Lucius grumbled, hitting his son with his pimp cane for the second time and causing him to howl even louder.

Voldemort just drove on and on, not caring about Draco's throbbing head or Lucius' throbbing back. But then, after what seemed like an immensely long time of driving along with no knowledge of where he was going, he started to get annoyed again. "Ok, who has the map?" he demanded.

Wormtail held it out at arm's length and turned it this way and that, struggling to make heads or tails of it. Were they supposed to head for that curiously-shaped and incredibly obvious area marked 'Airport'? The rat-man scratched his head in confusion.

Snape snatched it from his hands with a long-suffering sigh. "My Lord," he said to Voldemort, scanning the map carefully, "we're about an hour from the airport, I think."

"Good, good," Voldemort replied to his favourite follower. ("What?" he asks the readers irritably when they exchange bewildered glances. "He's the only one who has a brain in his head! Plus, his hair is so oily that it makes it perfectly shiny, just like mine used to be before old Dumbles cursed it off to make himself look more attractive by comparison! Er... You didn't hear any of that!") "Which way should I turn now, Snape?"

"You'll want to take a left here, master."

So, naturally, Voldemort turned right. "Snape..." he muttered accusingly, glaring at the bizarre cones and bright flashing lights blocking the road.

"Yes, my Lord?"

"What is _that_?"

Snape peered through the windscreen and frowned. "I believe the Muggles are working on the road. We should have taken a left back-"

"Yeah, yeah." Voldemort felt like banging his head against the steering wheel. Snape sure didn't know the difference between left and right, despite being the only Death Eater with a brain in his head...

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Eventually, after many tantrums, rest stops and whacks of Lucius' pimp cane, the minibus was rolling along the road leading up to the airport. The Death Eaters and their master seemed to finally be on the correct route, and they were all really happy about it. Until...

"Fire!" Crabbe yelled in terror.

The front of the minibus was smoking ominously. It clunked and shuddered to a halt and simply refused to start up again. Rodolphus screamed like a little girl, causing Bellatrix to lapse into uncontrollable giggles again. But her mirth was short-lived, for Voldemort soon jerked around in his seat to face her with a wicked smirk on his devilishly-handsome ("At least, in her opinion!") face.

"Bella, do as I command you and get out and push."

The insane woman's jaw dropped open in horror. "But, your sexiness, you surely can't expect me to push it by myself? I mean, this lump alone weighs about the same as a killer whale!" She jerked her thumb at Crabbe, who was rocking backwards and forwards and chanting fearfully, "Fire... fire... fire..."

The Darkest of Lords adopted a thoughtful expression. "Tell you what..."

_~ Twenty Slow, Painful Minutes Later ~_

Voldemort stuck his head out of the window and shouted to his followers, "That's it, just a couple more yards..."

"I – can't – go – on!" Draco collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. "Pushing – is – hard!"

Narcissa stooped over her son and fanned him with her hand. "Darling, the Dark Lord _needs_ us to push his minibus to the airport. We're providing a good service."

Lucius grumbled, "My aching back is killing me! Surely he can't require _all_ of us to push?"

Indeed, all twenty of the Death Eaters were now outside the vehicle, some pushing it from behind while the others crowded around the sides and steered. Snape, who, as Voldemort's favourite servant, was excused from pushing with the 'lesser mortals', strode along with the map held up to his eyes. Voldemort had resumed singing along to the radio (now playing 'Barbie Girl') and had blasted the eardrums of every person within a two-mile radius. And Happy Hoppy was sitting in the passenger's seat, as cute and innocent as ever.

"Tell it to someone who cares!" Bellatrix snapped at her brother-in-law. She was in a _very_ bad mood. Not only did her future lover care more about that infernal rabbit than her, her best robes had been splattered with mud and she was sweating like a pig. It certainly wasn't an attractive state for her Lord to see her in.

Amycus suddenly pointed ahead and grunted, "There 'tis!"

A huge, extravagant building had come into sight. Heathrow Airport was nothing like Voldemort or the Death Eaters had anticipated: they had expected there to be places for Apparition or Portkeys, or innumerable fireplaces for travelling by Floo Powder. Instead, there appeared to be nothing but these colossal metal tubes with wings and wheels attached. This was going to be harder than they thought...


End file.
